The Perfect Dress
by Samwysesr
Summary: This little One Shot goes along with Verse 3 of my Rose Hathaway role play. In this piece, Lissa has taken Rose dress shopping, but as usual, things don't go quite as smoothly as they'd planned. Rated M for Rose's language.


Thirty seven fucking dresses. That's how many I'd been forced to try on, and we'd been at it for _hours_. So when the sales clerk appeared with another lacy, fluffy monstrosity in hand, I just couldn't hold in my irritation for one single second more.

"No. Absolutely not. I _hate _it."

"Rose! There's no reason to be rude—she didn't do anything to you!" Lissa shook her head in exasperation, and I'm sure she was probably thinking that she really needed to give me a lesson in manners.

"I am _not_ trying that thing on Liss."

"Come on… there's only one or two more I want to see Rose. For me?" She gave me a pleading look, making me huff in frustration. If there was one thing I couldn't resist—besides Dimitri—it was that face, and she damned well knew it.

"That dress is not me Liss. Not in any way, shape or form. I will _never_ be a frou-frou, prissy kind of girl, so just accept it." I crossed my arms over my chest, an action that was becoming more and more difficult, seeing as how my boobs were expanding as rapidly as my swelling stomach. "Besides, look at it—I couldn't squeeze into that tiny thing even _before_ I got pregnant."

Lissa turned her green eyes to the dress in question, studying it intently. From the look on her face, you'd think that deciding whether or not she liked it was the most important thing in the entire world—and I guess, for her, in a way it was. As soon as she found out Dimitri had proposed she'd gone into overdrive, juggling her duties as Queen with planning my wedding. I did feel really grateful about it, but the thing was…. She refused to accept the fact that Dimitri and I just wanted a _small_ ceremony with our friends and family present. "You're actually right… hang on."

Completely exhausted, I sank down on the fancy, uncomfortable love seat the shop provided for its customers in the large waiting area of the dressing room. For what had to be the hundredth time since I woke up, I wondered how exactly it was that I'd let myself be roped into this hellish excursion. I already knew the answer, of course. It was glaringly obvious and incredibly simple.

Lissa.

I was willing to do anything to make my best friend happy, including trying on ridiculous, overpriced wedding dresses. Unlike me, Lissa actually _enjoyed_ things like this, and it helped her escape the constant stress she was always under. For just a little while, she could forget about her duties as Queen or the constant threat of insanity that weighed down on her—and though I might bitch and complain, I knew I'd try on a hundred more dresses if she asked me to.

"Try this —I have a good feeling about it."

Lissa's sweet voice pulled me out of my reverie, and though I rolled my eyes at her as I struggled to get to my feet, I took the dress without pointing out that she'd said the exact same thing about the first thirty seven dressed I'd tried on. Making my way back to the section of the room that was curtained off for privacy, I didn't even glance at the dress, just hung it on the wall and turned around, waiting for the sales girl to unbutton the stupid decorative buttons that trapped me inside the ugly, frilly dress I was wearing. As she helped me into the new dress, I bit my tongue, trying my best not to explode at the woman's running commentary about what a beautiful bride I would make. Finally satisfied, she straightened the long folds of the skirt and stepped back, beaming at me.

"There… I think her Majesty is right, this might be the one. What do you think dear?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to just blurt out the truth—that I'd prefer wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but when I glanced up at the three way mirror, my sarcastic statement died on my lips. Because it was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. I looked like some sort of fairy tale princess, and in that moment, more than anything, I wanted Dimitri to see me in it. The low waist line rested just under my belly, hugging my body in a way that was extremely becoming, with the skirts flowing loosely around me without all the irritating layers of crinoline that all the other dresses had. Staring at myself, I was suddenly glad that Lissa had insisted on getting me up at the crack of dawn to go to the Royal spa. She'd claimed that having my hair and makeup done before we went shopping would give me a better idea of how I would look on the big day, and she had been absolutely right. And though I'd balked when she'd demanded the hair stylist pin up my hair in an elaborate updo, with this dress, it looked absolutely perfect.

For the first time since we'd entered the shop three hours before, a wide, happy smile broke out across my face. "You're right…" I glanced over at the sales clerk, feeling tears prick behind my eyes, "this is the one."

Gently lifting the skirt so I wouldn't trip on it, I made my way back out to Lissa, eager to see her reaction. "Liss?"

She turned, and for a second or two she just stared at me without speaking before her lips turned up in a slow, pride filled smile. "Oh Rose—you look so beautiful!"

"I think this is it Liss… It just feels right." I fidgeted a little under the intensity of her gaze, my hand automatically going to my neck to cover the faint, barely discernible spattering of scars that were exposed. It was the only fault that I could find with the dress, but it was a big one. "Does it show them off too much? With my hair up like this, I mean?"

The marks didn't bother me, particularly, but it wasn't me I was worried about. The last thing I wanted was to have them on such blatant display at our wedding and risk ruining the day for Dimitri. Yes he saw them all the time, but on that day—the day I finally became his wife—I wanted everything to be perfect for _both_ of us.

"You can barely see them at all," she reassured me, hurrying over to take my hand. "But if it worries you, we can always charm a silver bracelet—or even an anklet to wear under your dress. Tradition says you need something borrowed, after all, so we'll get something from Sonya, alright?"

"That decides it then—this is the one I want." I squeezed her hand, feeling incredibly lucky to have such a supportive friend in my life. "How is it you always know just the right thing to say to calm me down?"

"It's a gift," she offered, smiling. "Now are you positive this is the one you want? Because I saw one or two others that might—"

Groaning, I dropped her hand, cutting her off before she could finish the thought. "No! Absolutely not. I want _this _one. No more trying on _anything_ Lissa. Look at it—it doesn't even need any alterations! That's gotta be a sign or something, right?"

Giggling at my outburst, she gently shoved me towards the dressing room. "Well we still have to get shoes and a veil and lingerie, but I guess I've tortured you enough for one day. Get changed and as soon as we check out I'll treat you to lunch for being so patient."

I hugged her carefully, afraid I might hurt the dress, then released her, spinning in a circle and laughing. "I never thought I'd say this, but now I'm actually _glad_ you brought me shopping. I can't wait to see the look on Dimitri's face when he sees me coming down the aisle."

"You realize we still might have to have it altered before the wedding, especially if junior keeps growing the way he has been," she said dryly, smiling at me as she fished her cell phone out of her purse. "Now go take it off before you decide to see how much it hampers your fighting style."

She wandered up to the front of the store, murmuring quietly into her phone and I couldn't help but make a face, figuring she was exchanging sweet nothings with Christian. Trying to contain my excitement—which was pretty hard, since I practically felt like skipping—I waited for the clerk to unfasten me, my mood so improved that her chatter no longer bothered me. It wasn't until she had excused herself and I was back in my regular clothes, gently hanging the dress up that I even thought to look at the price tag, and if anyone had glimpsed me in that moment, I'm sure they would have gotten a pretty good laugh at my expense. I stared down at the penciled number, feeling a little dizzy. There was no way in hell I could be reading it right—it had to be a misprint. Because if it was right, that meant my beautiful, fairy tale dream dress…. was _fifteen thousand dollars._

I staggered back, collapsing on the small bench that sat against the wall, my eyes wide. Cars were fifteen thousand dollars, or down payments on houses—not dresses. Hell, I felt guilty spending more than thirty bucks on a pair of jeans, so there was absolutely no way I could reason out emptying the small nest egg Dimitri and I had saved on a dress I would wear only once, no matter how beautiful it might be. We were already struggling financially with the baby on the way—my pay had been cut drastically when I pulled myself from active duty—and even with Dimitri pulling double shifts, it was hard to make ends meet with the medical bills and everything we had to buy in preparation for the birth of our child.

Fingering the soft material, I steeled myself, knowing I was about to have a fight on my hands. We'd already had one discussion on the subject of money today—and surprisingly enough, when I told Lissa that she wasn't allowed to spend a fortune on me today, she had given in without a fight. If I told the truth now—that I just couldn't afford this particular dress— she would insist on buying it for me, and there was no way I could let her. She always wanted to pay for everything, even going so far as leaving money hidden in our apartment when Dimitri and I politely refused her offer to pay all my medical expenses. The only thing I could think to do was convince her I'd changed my mind completely, because she couldn't exactly balk if I'd decided I didn't _like_ the dress. Parting the curtain I called out to her, wanting to have this argument in private without being under the clerks watchful eye. "Liss… can you come here a sec?" I put on my stoic guardian mask, determined to keep it in place, turning my back on the dress because there was no way I'd be able to convince her I hated it if it was in my line of sight.

When she joined me a moment later, she took one look at my solemn expression and frowned. "Rose? What is it?"

"I changed my mind—it's just not me Liss. It's bad enough the wedding is gonna be so formal… I just want a plain white dress, nothing fancy."

"But… You said it was the one!" Her green eyes widenedand she looked almost… frantic. Glancing over her shoulder she stepped into the room, her voice holding a strange note of urgency. "You said you wanted _that _dress!"

"I got caught up in the moment," I snapped, wincing a little when I heard how sharp my voice sounded. "I'm sorry—I just changed my mind, okay?"

"No. It is most certainly _not _okay! It's already paid forand there's a no return policy Rose!"

"Damn it Lissa! I don't want you paying for my wedding dress! I told you that this morning before I even agreed to go shopping for god's sake—you _promised_ you wouldn't do this!"

Her pale cheeks flushed slightly, and she shot a furtive glance at the curtain, her expression almost guilty. "I know what I promised! I didn't—"

"Everyone decent in there?" The voice called through the curtain, interrupting her mid-sentence and freezing me in place.

I stared at Lissa, my eyes wide, now understanding why she'd been acting so strange. "What the hell is _he_ doing here?" It came out a low hiss, one that even his heightened Moroi ears would not be able to discern.

"He insisted Rose! He made me promise to call the minute you decided on something. He's been sitting outside for hours waiting for you to make up your mind."

"How did he even _know_ we were doing this today _Vasilisa_?"

She rolled her eyes and smirked at me in a very un-queenly fashion. "Did you actually just ask me that _Rosemarie? _The man knows everything—you should know that by now. I'd swear he's got bugs covering every square inch of—"

She stopped abruptly as the curtain parted and my father stepped into the room with a sly grin on his face. "Not everywhere—that wouldn't be practical."

Staring at him, I was amazed he even knew the meaning of the _word _practical. As always he was dripping with gold, and he was wearing his customary loud colors—today it was a bright purple shirt with a blood red scarf draped around his neck. On anyone else, it would have looked ridiculous, but on Abe… well, somehow… it just worked. He met my gaze, cocking an eyebrow, then his eyes dropped to my stomachand the arrogant mask he wore slipped, for just a moment. His face softened, and I could almost swear I saw the telltale gleam of tears in his dark, dark eyes, but as soon as I noticed it he turned away, walking over to where the dress was hanging. "It's beautiful Kiz—and it _is _custom for the father of the bride to pay for the wedding, so for once, no arguments. Just say thank you and leave it at that."

"It's too much," I protested, irritated to feel my own eyes filling with hot, frustrated tears. "That money could have gone towards medical bills or the baby's education or—"

He spun to face me, his expression stern. "Rosemarie, I missed out on eighteen years' worth of spoiling my only child. If that dress is the one you want, then that's the one you're damn well going to have. If it makes you feel better I'll set up a savings account for my grandchild and deposit the amount of the dress."

His words startled me for a minute. I knew he loved me, but it was rare to hear him mention missing out on my childhood—it was a topic we both usually avoided. "Mom wouldn't have let you spoil me—if either of you had been around, I mean." As soon as I said it I wanted to take it back; I hadn't meant for it to come out sounding so petty

"Kid, I've always been able to handle your mother when it comes to certain things."" His smile was so smug that I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "There's absolutely no reason for you to be worried about money Rose—I've got more than I know what to do with."

"We want to—"

"Do it all on your own. I know," he said drily, "I've heard the speech before, Kiz. Your Russian is as hard headed as you are at times—I tried to give him a check the other day and he actually tore it up in front of me." Frowning, he shook his head and leaned down a little, looking me straight in the eye. "I'll respect your wishes—and his—up to a point, but on this I'm not budging. I bought the dress, and you _are_ going to wear it."

"Or what, you'll break my kneecaps?" I scoffed, giving him a look that would have frozen most Moroi in their tracks.

"Worse. I'll tell your mother how much I spent and that you refused to accept my attempt at making amends."

Imagining the lecture I'd get from my mom, I groaned. She was as thrifty as me, but if she found out Abe had made a 'fatherly effort' and I had rejected it, I'd never hear the end of it. "Well played, old man."

"Never challenge the master, kid, you'll lose every time. Now if you're done arguing, how about letting your devastatingly handsome father take his favorite daughter and," he turned to smile at Lissa, inclining his head in a small, respectful gesture, "his favorite surrogate daughter out to lunch? I really hate to eat alone, and I'm starving."

It was obvious by the radiant smile on Lissa's face how much it meant hearing herself referenced in that way—even if it was by my disreputable mobster of a father. She would be shocked to realize that it was more than just typical Abe Mazur flattery—I knew he actually meant every word; after the attack on Jill, I had noticed and influx of strangers around court—strangers that never spoke to anyone, who always seemed to appear somewhere in the vicinity of my best friend. When I caught one of them lurking in the trees outside her residence, I'd attacked the man—almost staking him before he blurted out that he worked for my father. Abe had taken it upon himself to station sharpshooters around court and had hired a virtual army of enforcers to trail in her wake, because he was suspicious of everyone—even the Royal Guard. His reasoning had been that since Lissa's father was gone, someone had to look out for her best interest—and since the Dragomir's had practically raised me, he was returning the favor. Then he'd looked me in the eye and said that even if she never realized it, she _still _had a father, even if it was someone she wouldn't have chosen on her own. That one statement had made me see that my father might have his faults and we may disagree about most things—but when it came to Lissa's safety, I could trust him implicitly. Looking at the happy smile on her face as she looked up at him, I had a hunch she wouldn't balk if I told her what he'd said that day.

"Sure thing—you know I'm always up for food." I walked over and stretched up, brushing my lips across Abe's cheek. "Thanks… for everything. I'm sorry I'm an ungrateful bitch at times."

"Don't sweat it kid—you forget, I'm used to dealing with Janine. Difficult women are my specialty." He winked at me, then took Lissa's hand and placed it on the crook of his elbow in an old world gesture that made her giggle. "By the way, there _is_ one other thing I won't bend on Rosemarie, and your mother is with me on it, so you might as well just accept it. If you and Dimitri don't like it you can both discuss it with her since she's the one who thought of it."

I narrowed my eyes, studying his mirthful expression. "What?"

"Your wedding present—we're buying you a house here at court." He smiled so big his fangs flashed, bright white against the dark goatee that framed his mouth.

"Bullshit! There is no way in _hell_ that we're gonna let—"

"Take it up with your mother, Kiz." He smirked at me, arching an eyebrow and looking pointedly at my feet. "Be a good girl and put your shoes on so we can go—you can't wander around court barefoot, and I'm wasting away from hunger the longer you stand there arguing with me."

Lissa let out another giggle, and I shot her a murderous look. It was one thing for her to get along with my father, but I drew the line at her laughing at his sarcasm when it was directed at me. "Why don't you two go wait in the car—I'll be along in a second."

He made a dramatic, courtly bow, gesturing to the curtain, and I swear to God Lissa was more amused than I'd seen her in ages. Watching them walk away, I made a mental note to ask Abe to spend more time with her. If ten minutes with him gave her this much enjoyment, his presence might actually help keep the darkness at bay.

Even though I was glad to see Lissa so lighthearted, I couldn't help but be incredibly frustrated by my parents high handed techniques. Shoving my feet into my sneakers and mumbling curses under my breath, I turned to grab my dress, a little surprised that my irritation faded as soon as I ran my eyes over the material. There was no way I could be unhappy when I looked at it—it just had that effect on me. I took it down from the peg on the wall carefully, draping it over my arms so it wouldn't drag the floor. I felt that strange, giddy excitement slowly grabbing hold of me again, and at that moment the inkling of an idea formed in the back of my mind. I wouldn't argue with Abe or my mother about their wedding present—though Dimitri might—I'd get them back for ignoring my wishes in an entirely different way.

Walking up to the counter, I handed the woman my dress, leaning on the counter and watching as she carefully stowed it away in an elaborate garment bag. "You sell mother of the bride dresses, right?"

"Of course dear—we have a very extensive collection of fashionable dresses. Ones that are suitable for use for more than just a wedding," she said, smiling at me.

"Oh no—I don't want something like that… my mom likes really _elaborate_ stuff, like lots of ruffles and bows and stuff. And with a short skirt—like _really_ short. So if you could set aside a selection of dresses like that under the name Janine Hathaway, I'd really appreciate it."

"Certainly. Was there a particular color you had in mind?"

I didn't hesitate. "Pink. Like Pepto-Bismol color. And orange—the brighter the better."

I almost laughed at the dismayed look that flicked across her face. "But… The Queen said the colors for the wedding were light blue and silver…I'm afraid that shade of pink or orange don't really match the scheme she's selected."

I shrugged, tossing my hair back and giving her my best forlorn look. "I know, but my father is paying for everything—and he specifically said he wanted to see her in one of those colors. You saw how he was dressed… he loves bright, flashy things." The lie rolled off my tongue easily—a talent I suspected I inherited from Abe.

"Oh… well then I understand your predicament. I don't have anything in those particular colors in stock, but I can order a few things on a rush and have them here in a few days, if that's acceptable?" When I nodded, she opened a drawer, pulling out a pad and pen, sliding them across the counter . "If you could just jot down your mothers size and perhaps a description of what your father had in mind?"

Biting my lip to contain my laughter, I scribbled down the information she's requested, handing it over with a bright smile. "Thanks—and if she seems upset over the colors, please be sure she knows that Abe requested them. I'd hate to have her upset with me about it." I widened my eyes dramatically as I took the bag from her outstretched hand. "She gets kinda irritated that he likes to see her in trashy stuff."

She gave me a knowing smile and a wink. "Of course, I'm sure she's well aware of your father's rather… eclectic taste. I'm sure she won't complain when she realizes he selected them. Wanting to please her man, you know."

Thanking her again I headed for the door, smiling so widely my cheeks hurt. If my parents thought they could gang up on me and force me to do what they wanted, they were sadly mistaken. I'd just beat them at their own game, using the oldest trick in the book.

Divide and conquer.

When it came right down to it, I knew there was no way in hell Lissa would allow my mother to wear such garish colors to the wedding; she'd put her foot down and pick something out on her own, which was what I'd intended all along. The important thing was that when my hotheaded mother showed up to try on dresses, she would unsuspectingly be faced with an array of garments in styles she would _never _ wear—and even worse in the two colors she detested above all others. And when the sales lady told her _Abe_ had specifically requested them, she would flip out, destroying their little 'us against Rose' alliance for good. I only hoped the poor sales lady didn't use the phrase 'dressing to please her man' on my mother—if she did a broken nose would be the _least _ of her worries.

"What are you looking so smug about?" Lissa asked as I handed Abe's driver my dress and climbed into the back seat.

"Oh… I actually thought ahead for once—asked the sales lady to set aside some dresses for mom." I turned to my father, grinning. "I told her to tell mom you requested them—figured you could use all the help you could get in winning her over."

"My daughter—as smart as she is beautiful." He patted me on the back, smiling appreciatively. "That's sure to impress her—good thinking Kiz."

"Sometimes I even surprise myself." I smiled at him sweetly, settling back against the seat and trying not to laugh. Someday my father would learn that _nobody_ gets the best of Rose Hathaway. Not even the infamous Zmey.


End file.
